CHAPTER XXVIII
THE COMING OF DR. MILSOM
She rose to meet him, and he stood spellbound, still holding the handle of the door. It seemed that she had taken on new qualities, a new and an ethereal grace. At the very thought even of his technical possession of this smiling girl who came forward to greet him, his heart thumped so loudly that he felt she must hear it. She was pale, and there were dark shadows under her eyes, but the hand that gripped his was firm and warm and living.
"I have to thank you for much, Mr. Beale," she said. "Mr. Kitson has told me that I owe my rescue to you."
"Did he?" he asked awkwardly, and wondered what else Kitson had told her.
"I am trying to be very sensible, and I want you to help me, because you are the most sensible man I know."
She went back to the lounge-chair where she had been sitting, and pointed to another.
"It was horribly melodramatic, wasn't it? but I suppose the life of a detective is full of melodrama."